


Friends Don't Let Friends Eat at Denny's

by marginalia



Series: Dom/Oz [15]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, dom/oz verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-22
Updated: 2004-07-22
Packaged: 2018-10-06 10:16:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10332371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/pseuds/marginalia





	

Dominic almost misses the turn, speeding through the haze of night and neon that is Aurora. He'd come into the city with Elijah who, of course, had pulled inappropriately early in the evening. Fucking bendy boy in that three story club above downtown, it's amazing he lasted as long as he did. Now Dominic's driving on half-remembered directions, driving to greasy pancakes, endless coffee and a sweet fading memory of the last time.

The floor of Beth's is as slick as ever and the air is full of smoke and laughter, grease and the jukebox. If he were here with Billy, they'd slide into on one of the half-occupied booths in the back, taking it in turns to challenge people in the game room, but tonight, this morning, he's the only party of one in the place, so he falls into a chair at a small side table and waits. The wall beside him sports an amateur rendition of Trogdor, an engineering schematic, and a pirate in heavy kohl, and he thinks he'll ask for crayons if the waiter ever appears.

"Coffee?" asks a voice above the din, and as he looks up, something inside jolts painfully. Hopefully. Oz is already pouring the coffee, half-smiling when their eyes meet. "Hey!" he says, genuinely cheerful, and Dominic feels at home for the first time in too long. Oz takes his order, flicking his labret across his teeth. "And crayons, right?"

"Of course."

Dominic's midway through his breakfast when Oz has a moment free and slides into the seat opposite. "How've you?" they both begin, then stop, laughing.

"You around for a while?" Oz asks.

"Yeah. When do you?"

"Six."

"I'll wait. But only if you give me change for the jukebox. You really ought to look into improving the taste of your clientele."

Their fingers brush as Oz tilts quarters into Dominic's palm. Dominic lights a cigarette, spins his coffee cup, sketches a cartoon of a penguin speaking scraps of dialogue from the surrounding tables.

In the bedlam, waiting, he is still.


End file.
